Buttons
by Firestar9mm
Summary: "Don't quit your day job, Scarlett," he chuckled, spraying gunfire in a tight semi-circle as he put his back to hers.  "This is my day job!" she whooped.


**Author's Introduction:**

The 80s is the best decade of all, and not just because it was the site of my latest reincarnation. It is the best decade because we were riding high and we did not give a good god damn. We were rich. We were glamorous. The music was dream fuel, the toys had no limit, the cartoons were the brightest, flashiest thirty-minute commercials ever, everyone's imaginations were hopped up on carbonated soda and cocaine, and the clothes were outrageous. Truly, truly, truly outrageous.

So this is only about, oh, I don't know, four thousand years overdue. And I've been wanting to write _this_ particular story for quite some time, I just didn't know whose story it was.

I should have known—it belongs to _these_ two!

* * *

><p><strong><span>Buttons<span>**

_A G.I. Joe fanfiction by Firestar9mm_

* * *

><p><em>Today was a good day<br>I didn't even have to use my A.K.  
>At least I didn't get my heart broken anyway<em>

(The Ataris, _Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start_)

* * *

><p>They were surrounded.<p>

Enemy soldiers seemed to be boiling from the walls, and there was no chance to escape the way they'd come. After the earthquake, the few pieces of broken stone that hadn't crumbled and fallen into the yawning chasm had bloodthirsty drones scrambling over them with murder in their faces. Even if the way had been clear, Conrad Hauser was far too proud to show his back to the foe.

Still, it was not looking good for the home team. They were outnumbered ten to one, and for every faceless pawn he mowed down, it seemed there were three more to take its place. He'd started this fight with a machine gun, but he'd lost it some ways back. He had a gut feeling that they were close, so close to finishing the battle once and for all, but the odds were against them and he had no idea what waited beyond the corridor before them, to say nothing of the enemy soldiers swarming in front of the portal.

The only consolation was that he wasn't alone. His companion was fighting like a demon, and as he glanced at her, she emptied a clip into a horde of advancing soldiers then whirled in complete defiance of the laws of physics to plug another man who was sneaking up on her from behind.

"You're flagging on me, Top Kick," she teased, elbowing him with one arm and flipping her red ponytail off her shoulder with the other.

"Give me a break," he retorted, blasting a soldier off the wall it was climbing to reach them. "This place is crawling with scum."

"So clean it up, and don't you tell me it's woman's work," she quipped, tossing a wink at him. When she was in a teasing mood, she'd let a little Southern honey flow into her voice—something he found wholly distracting when he was trying to keep his aim steady. "You keep daydreaming, and these guys'll give you a break—in both legs!"

"Don't quit your day job, Scarlett," he chuckled, spraying gunfire in a tight semi-circle as he put his back to hers.

"This _is_ my day job!" she whooped, mimicking his movement until they'd cleared a path to the corridor. "We've got it, Duke, let's go!"

Something wasn't right. He could feel it. "Shana, _wait_—"

Before he could stop her from dashing down the narrow passageway, a nightmare erupted from the floor—a monstrous, misshapen head with a sleepy, slitted eyeball, a scarily human face below it as though it were fighting its way out of the mutated mess. She cursed, fumbling for the trigger, and hissed, "Shoot it, _shoot_ it!" but he could already tell it was too late.

Helpless to do anything in time, he saw Scarlett knocked aside by a hideous skeletal claw. With a guttural cry of rage, he emptied his clip into the beast, but his vengeance was as effective as spitting—he had just enough time to see the blast coming before it ripped through his shoulder and he went down for the count. Tiny, spiderlike creatures surged from the walls, scrambling back and forth over the corpses of the two soldiers.

"Oh, hell," Scarlett said with a snort of disgust. "Well, way to go, Man of Action. We're dead."

* * *

><p>From her position in the corridor just outside the common room, Lady Jaye pumped a fist in the air in victory. "Yesss! They're dead."<p>

Flint, who was leaning against the wall across from her with his arms folded, perked up slightly. "They finally kicked it?"

Jaye snuck another peek into the room, using the doorjamb as a sighting post. "Yeah, they're history. It took them long enough; figures, when they're such crack shots."

Cover Girl was sitting on the floor, the perfect picture of a woman who was bored to death. "Only those two would spend their free time doing something that looks exactly like _work_," she said, flicking a sideswept lock of strawberry blonde hair out of her eyes irritably. "That's sad. That's so sad I actually feel guilty mocking them for it."

Lady Jaye swatted playfully at their resident beauty queen. "Grow up. They're toast. Everything's going according to plan."

Flint had moved to the other side of the doorjamb; now he finished Jaye's sentence with bad news. "…Except they're not leaving."

Dismayed, Lady Jaye looked from Cover Girl to their two teammates and saw that Flint was absolutely right. They had started a new battle—with each other.

Scarlett, who showed no signs of getting up from her seat in front of the television screen, sneered and pointed a slender, accusing finger at Duke like a pistol. "Should I worry that you'd be that slow in the field?"

Duke's blond brows met over his eyes as he glared at her, tossing his controller down in disgust. "Worry about yourself! You're the one who ran headlong into enemy fire. It's your fault!"

"_My_ fault? _You're_ the one who didn't put the code in properly and we ran out of extra lives!" she said.

"I put it in just fine," Duke retorted. "Up, up, down, down, right, left—"

"It is _not_ right left." Scarlett rolled her eyes. "You should have let me do it."

"Maybe if you shot better, we wouldn't need _thirty_ extra lives!" Duke snapped in exasperation.

Lady Jaye whirled away from the doorjamb, flattening her back against the corridor wall as though seeking cover from an explosion, her mouth a silent, bright pink _o_ of shock. Cover Girl's full lower lip drooped similarly in an "oh, shit" expression. Flint checked his urge to laugh, keeping watch at the door. "Duck and cover, ladies," he murmured to his companions. "I think he went too far."

"Do we interrupt them now?" Jaye whispered. "This could get ugly."

Sure enough, Scarlett's eyes had gone wide at this last insult, then narrowed to slits of blue. She spoke softly, menacingly. "Why you _miserable_—"

Cover Girl frowned. "Well, _shit_."

Jaye arched a fawn-colored brow at Flint. "Remind me again why we're letting this continue? Do we just hang out here until one of them kills the other?"

Since Duke and Scarlett seemed unhappy with each other at the moment, Flint didn't have a good answer for Jaye. He was probably a little _too _sympathetic to his teammates' situation—he knew very well how hard it was to steal a few moments with one's girl in a military base, and their commanding officer was so by-the-book that any instances of fraternization would be planned and concealed as carefully as a sneak attack into an enemy base. He felt like a heel intruding on any chance they had to be alone with each other and away from the watchful eyes of a platoon that got way too creative with its gossip, and even an argument was a chance for passion to go unchecked, which was better than having to constantly bury feelings under the weight of protocol and professionalism. They deserved a few moments to be human just as everyone did.

But the damn game was on and they'd been at that TV for almost an hour.

"The hell with this," a voice interrupted, and Flint realized his introspection had made him slow—too slow to grab a now-impatient Cover Girl by the scruff and stop her from breaching the room. The strawberry blonde stepped gracefully between her two seated comrades and crossed her legs beneath her. Shifting her weight in what appeared to be an effort to get more comfortable, she jostled Scarlett ever so slightly aside and switched the input feed so that the "Game Over" screen was replaced by a baseball diamond. "Calm down, you two. It's just a game. Speaking of games, did you guys know there's one on right now?"

Scarlett's voice was heavy with sarcasm; even her long tail of red hair seemed to wilt with dismay. "Hi Courtney. Come on in. Have a seat."

"Don't mind if I do," Cover Girl said cheerfully, raising the volume on the television and jabbing a playful elbow into Duke's ribs. "Lucky you, Hauser. You've got the best seat in the house right here. Who are you rooting for tonight?"

Duke looked almost comically uncomfortable as Scarlett arched a copper brow at him. "Yes, Duke, whose side _are_ you on?"

Flint and Lady Jaye exchanged eyerolls. Cover Girl was harmless, but antagonizing Scarlett about Duke seemed to be a source of constant amusement for her. Flint supposed having once worked in an industry that made money off of women sexually competing with each other had made it a reflex, but he didn't blame Scarlett for taking it personally.

Neither did Jaye, apparently. She covered her eyes with one hand. "We are going to get shrapneled if we stay here much longer."

Luckily, like any good soldier, Duke knew when to pull the ripcord. "You know I'm really a football fan, Cover Girl," he said smoothly, getting to his feet and extending both hands to Scarlett. "Take my seat. Red, want to come along?"

Scarlett took the offered hands and let her C.O. pull her to her feet. "Thanks for the lift," she said, and her smile said the silly disagreement was already forgotten.

Flint and Lady Jaye glanced at each other; the warrant officer shrugged and they walked into the common room. Since Duke and Scarlett were still standing, Flint didn't see anything wrong with commandeering the small sofa, leaving enough room for Jaye beside him. He hoped it might give their friends the hint to make their escape—the more Joes that had invaded the common room to watch the game, the bigger chance that they could find some privacy elsewhere. "What's the score, guys?" he asked. His eyebrows shot up in pleased surprise. "Yesss. That's my boys."

Cover Girl snorted from her seat on the floor. "Wait. They'll choke in the later innings like they always do."

Flint frowned. "Don't start with me, Cover Girl."

The ex-model smiled winningly. "_Er_-aaaaaaaaaaaa!"

Her seat beside him gave Lady Jaye the opportunity to stroke a soothing hand down Flint's tensed bicep out of sight of the others. "We'll have the last laugh when the Jets are embarrassing themselves in the fall, Court."

Courtney turned to give Jaye the hairy eyeball. "Don't take this the wrong way, Allie, but I hate you."

Scarlett spoke to Duke in a stage whisper. "How exactly did we lose control of the evening?"

Lady Jaye was not entirely guiltless of the wisdom of the serpent. "You know, Shana, if you're looking for some peace and quiet, you can hole up in our bunk. I'll probably be hanging out here for a while."

The true meaning of her words was not lost on Flint, and while he applauded her attempt, he knew Duke and Scarlett would never go for it. It was way too obvious, and the whispers and snickers—and one blatant inappropriate question from Shipwreck—would be all over the mess the next morning. They were far too discreet to allow for anything like that.

Well, he and Jaye had done all they could, he reasoned. If their teammates were going to be stubborn, then he was going to relax and hope his team proved Cover Girl wrong. For _once_. Damn if they didn't choke in the last innings every time lately, just like she'd said. Ah well.

He draped his arm over the back of the sofa casually, and like the perfect partner she was, Lady Jaye took the cue and relaxed into the curve of the poorly disguised embrace. Tilting his head just close enough to catch the scent of the expensive conditioner that lingered in her cropped hair, Flint breathed in, enjoying her nearness.

Casting a glance at Duke and Scarlett, who had resigned themselves to leaning against the wall in a corner of the room with one eye on the ballgame and one on each other, he frowned slightly. It was as simple as what his arm encircled right this very minute, simple as learning to relish even the smallest pleasures in a life where they so rarely got to be alone. It was almost annoyingly frustrating that his two comrades couldn't be at ease and learn to do the same once in a while—

And then as his gaze drifted past them, he saw something he hadn't expected. Snake Eyes stood in the doorway of the common room. A barely perceptible swivel of his masked head told Flint he was taking in the scene, and then, when he realized he had the warrant officer's attention, he pointed at himself. The warrant officer gave the ninja a quizzical look, but watched silently as Snake advanced towards Duke and Scarlett with the lethal cool of a timber wolf.

"Hey, you," Scarlett said affectionately; Duke nodded at their teammate. "Come to watch the Mets lose, Snake?"

Snake Eyes's hands moved fluidly for a few seconds, and the two sergeants chuckled. "Yeah, that's what Cover Girl said," Scarlett clarified.

Flint wasn't sure how he knew the ninja was smiling. He just had a feeling, and as he watched, Snake motioned for Duke's attention. His next signs were so simple that even a child could have understood them; he pointed at the ceiling, then moved his hand up twice for emphasis, slowly, before repeating the gesture towards the floor. Then he pointed at the television set, then the door, then the television set again, then back to the door. Raising his other hand, he held it up with the thumb crossed before his palm, then curled his fingers down into a fist with his thumb pointing upward.

A puzzled expression on her face, Scarlett said, "What?" Since she could practically read the ninja's mind even without the aid of her fluency in sign language, it was a rarity to see her misunderstand her friend.

Duke's eyes narrowed as he translated under his breath. "Up…up…down…down…left…right…left…right…B…A….god _damn _it."

Now Flint _knew_ Snake Eyes was smiling, and not just because his shoulders shook with silent laughter. Jaye snorted a more audible laugh against Flint's neck; apparently she wasn't watching the game anymore either.

Scarlett tried unsuccessfully to stifle her own surprised laughter as she realized what had been said, then glanced almost helplessly from Duke to Snake Eyes and back again as the Master Sergeant stalked out of the common room, back ramrod straight with barely leashed irritation. "Duke, _wait _—oh, _come_ on!" she said, unable to stop herself from chuckling. Turning back to Snake Eyes, she gave the ninja a playful shove—which, coming from anyone else would have been tantamount to a death wish—but she was smiling. "You jerk," she said to Snake, then blanched, glancing at the corridor again. "But I _told_ him he'd put it in wrong." Wheeling, she was gone in a blur of bright hair to chase down her affronted companion.

Calmly, Snake Eyes selected a chair and settled into it, masked face turned towards the television set while Flint shook his head in grudging admiration.

"You enjoyed that," Lady Jaye accused the ninja, but her tone was amused.

Flint wasn't exactly sure how sign language could be smug, but Snake Eyes managed it as his hands answered Jaye:

{_It worked, didn't it?_}

* * *

><p>Scarlett wasn't sure where Duke had given her the slip, but a cursory search of the mess hall, his office and the gym had yielded nothing. Resigning herself to defeat, she decided to take Lady Jaye's advice and turn in early. It <em>would<em> be nice to be able to sleep soundly until Jaye inevitably woke her up by creeping back to bed at an ungodly hour. No matter how quiet she thought she was being, years of training had the redhead up and alert at the slightest noise, and it was always irritating to realize she was about to put her own bunkmate in a joint lock (which had made for some interesting disagreements in the early days of their sharing a room). Scarlett found herself crossing her fingers that Jaye and Flint would find somewhere private to hole up for the night and let her have the room to herself.

Not that she'd be able to take _advantage_ of it or anything.

Sighing, she made her way to the barracks. _Swing and a miss, Red_, she scolded herself. _Again_.

Rounding the corner, she stopped short at the sight of her six-foot-two, eyes-of-blue C.O. leaning casually against the wall across from her door. "You're here," she blurted.

"Waiting for you. What took you so long?" He smiled at her then, the smile that would have made her shy in high school and still made her feel shivery now. The corridor's narrowness became apparent to her suddenly; she felt pleasantly surrounded by the tang of aftershave and the warmth he exuded.

"I was looking for you. Why'd you walk out on me?" Her tone was light, but her hands curled into fists and pressed against her thighs to combat the familiar ache that came over her when he was this close—the urge to run her hands up his chest, grip his strong shoulders, to finally lace her fingers together behind his neck just in time for him to take the cue and lift her to him for a kiss.

"I was hoping you'd follow. You didn't think I'd play that badly on purpose if I didn't have a reason, did you?" He gave her a Cheshire smirk. His muscular arms were folded across his chest, and she wondered if he was thinking along the same lines as her, wondered if he was keeping his own hands pinioned rather than reach for her.

Forgetting her resolve not to tease him anymore tonight, she aimed and fired with a self-assured smirk of her own. "Don't try to sweet-talk me, Hauser. You never remember how to put in that code."

Duke chuckled good-naturedly, relaxing from his phony attempt to look casual. Scarlett dug her own nails into her palms to distract herself from the sight of those big hands open at his sides, from the sensory memory of the familiar gun callous on his right hand against her skin.

"You caught me, Red," he said. "But I can't say I'm too upset about having to cut the game short." He arched a blond brow at her. "We could play something else."

Scarlett crossed one leg behind the other girlishly, putting her back against her door and stepping just beyond the reach of those big hands. "Jaye did mention something about not being back for a while. Do you want—"

Half her breath was knocked out when he forced her back against the wall, and he stole the other half with his kiss, seizing her in his arms with the same unquestionable authority that made him so good at his job. "You know what I want," he growled against her ear, the amusement in his voice laced with something far less innocent.

She laughed, but even to her own ears the sound was shaky with anticipation. Still, the fact remained that they were in the corridor, and all she had to do was open the door to render them safe from prying eyes, but she was loath to leave the embrace she'd waited all day for.

Apparently her C.O. had a similar disinclination to move; before she could protest his mouth was on hers again, hot and demanding, one large hand spread against the small of her back to press her to him. Tearing her mouth reluctantly from his, she breathed, "Someone will see—"

"I'll see." His other hand was in her hair, scratching almost roughly at the band that secured it.

Rational thinking was becoming less and less possible, and the little tugs at her hair didn't so much hurt her as excite her; in the field, you could stack ice cubes on Conrad Hauser's head and they wouldn't melt, but when his control slipped and desperate hurry spurred his movements, it was because he wanted _her_. "I don't—"

"You will." Her hair was loose now, the band discarded, and she imagined she felt the sweet friction of that gun callous through her thermals as he slid his hand behind her knee, urging her to wrap herself around him. "Shana," he murmured against her neck.

If he said her name like that one more time, she'd let him take her right there. Trying the last shot in her locker, Scarlett purred, "Gonna carry me over the threshold, Top Kick?"

Warm laughter shook her as he lifted her completely, her legs dangling over his muscular forearm. "If that's what it takes."

She reached to open the door, something that took way longer than it should have due to another distracting kiss. "Mmm. Let's hope the game goes into extra innings," she murmured.

"Against the Mets? Don't count on it," Duke snorted, kicking the door shut behind them as he carried her inside. "Too bad we don't have a cheat code for that."

Scarlett laughed, lacing her fingers behind his neck. "Come on, Hauser. Push my buttons instead."

* * *

><p><strong><span>Author's Notes:<span>**

Like I said, I'm truly a child of the 80s. If any decade wants to say it was better than the 80s, I will _fight _that decade. *^_^*

**Top Kick:** "Top Kick" is military slang for "First Sergeant". Duke's dossier lists him as a Master Sergeant, which in the U.S. is equal in grade to first sergeant (but they do not mean the same thing). Scarlett's dossier also has the rank of Master Sergeant, but if you go by the Sunbow animated series, she takes orders from Duke and only assumes command in his absence. Anyway, from the very first installment of "The M.A.S.S. Device" when she asks him where his sense of adventure is, I imagine their relationship has a solid foundation of camaraderie and teasing banter, and that's what I think's going on here. I've been a loyal fan of this pairing since I was a kid in the 80s, and one of the many things I like about it is that it's actually canon depending on which incarnation of the series you're going by, so I don't have to break canon to write it (since anyone who knows me knows I hate breaking canon). Which also means I can write the pairing as I see it without any disrespect to my man Snake Eyes. *^_^* It's _so_ nice when things work out like that.

**On feasibility:** This is really based on more lighthearted subject matter (the 80s animated series), which contains many silly, happier scenes, including but not limited to: Snake Eyes having a sense of humor (giving Scarlett the A-OK in "Jungle Trap", attempting to dance in "The Viper Is Coming" [an episode that was obviously written while on opiates]), Cover Girl ribbing Scarlett about Duke ("Don't worry about Duke, he's right here beside me," "Oh, I'll just bet he is!" in "The Phantom Brigade"), Lady Jaye having expensive taste ("The Gamesmaster") etc. Obviously in wartime these guys have more on their minds than playing billiards and watching _Spider-Man_ in the common room ("Twenty Questions"), but it's evidenced more than once that the Joes play as hard as they work, so I thought I'd write something a little smiley.

**On New York sports teams:** Obviously Flint and Cover Girl, being from Kansas and Chicago respectively, wouldn't be rooting for New York sports teams. That's just me making fun of every guy I know who's naïve enough to root for the Mets. *^_~* Don't frown at me too hard, I'm suffering too—I'm a Jets fan.

**Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start: **My elder cousin (who's really more like a big brother to me) and I used to while away long hours playing _**Contra**_ and its sequel, _Super C_ (fans of the games may recognize the description of the boss battle in this fic as being from _Super C_ rather than the original _Contra_) on the Nintendo Entertainment System, sitting on the gray-upholstered piano bench in my parents' apartment where we grew up. I wouldn't trade the memories of those happy days for all the money that would have bought us a house back then. I'm sure everyone who knows _Contra_ used the now-famous Konami code programmed into a bunch of Konami's games back then—Up, Up, Down, Down, Left, Right, Left, Right, B, A, Start. Because I'm sorry, any game with one-hit kills _owes_ you thirty lives.

*throws up hands in an oh-well gesture* I love this series and I love these characters, but I'll tell you I have no idea if I can write for them. Please accept my humble offering and have pity on me.


End file.
